A Shoulder To Cry On, An Ear To Listen, Always
by CassidyTVNut
Summary: This is my take on the spoiler read on the BBC website about the Holby episode for the 8th of June...DO NOT READ IF YOU WANT TO BE SURPRISED!


A Shoulder To Cry On, An Ear To Listen, Always...

**This is my take on the spoiler read on the BBC website about the Holby episode for the 8****th**** of June...DO NOT READ IF YOU WANT TO BE SURPRISED!**

_When Elaine dies, Connie wants to make peace with Kevin but she's convinced that he only wants revenge. Nevertheless, Kevin rescues her from being attacked by an ex-patient's relative in her office, but Connie's hopes of reconciliation are dashed by Kevin's subsequent character assassination of her. For the first time in her life, Connie pulls herself out of an operation and turns to Greg for comfort._

**Just in case you don't know, Greg is a new registrar at Holby; when Connie was working at a private hospital in London after Archie's death, Greg was her registrar and lover. **

'Do something!' roared Kevin as he helplessly gazed upon a lifeless Elaine, his Elaine. His ears rang, always hearing the constant, rhythmic bleep of the machines as her heart stopped beating.

'It's too late,' shouted Connie, holding back tears. 'She's gone Kev, she's gone...'

'No!' he yelled. 'Do something Con! Make her better! You promised us Con! You promised that she'd get better...'

'I'm so sorry Kev, the damage was just too severe,' said Connie. 'There's nothing we can do.'

'Elaine!' yelled out Kevin. 'Elaine!'

'I'm so sorry Kev,' she said tearfully, looking at her watch. 'Time of death, 8:51am. Can you please give Mr Dalton some time alone with his wife?'

The team nodded, quietly leaving the room, the only sounds being their feet shuffling along the floor. Connie remained behind, her eyes streaming as she looked upon a devastated Kevin by Elaine's side. Tears lined his eyes threatening to fall, his remarkable self control so far about to crumble.

She did not say a word, she just watched, and thought.

It was her fault that Elaine was dead. She knew it, everyone knew it.

Joseph would try and convince her otherwise, Elliot would chant I told you so until he was blue in the face and Michael would undermine her ambitions, he would look down on her.

She looked down on herself, seeing herself as a despicable human being. How could she sacrifice those she cared about, how could she put those people at risk for pitiful ambition, for something that did not mean that much to her? She was disgusted with herself...

Her eyes looked up as she heard Kevin sob, Elaine's just warm hand in his, repeatedly stroking it. She moved closer to him, step by step, as if trying to pluck up the courage to cross that line. Ever so steadily...she placed her hand on his shoulder and reassuringly gave it a small squeeze.

'Don't touch me Con!' he exclaimed, springing up from his seat. 'You promised you cared, you promised us that you'd fix her! You used her as a guinea pig Con, your own friend! How could you do that to her? Perhaps you never saw us as your friends!'

'How could you say that Kev?' argued Connie. 'I suggested the procedure because it was best for Elaine, because you are both my friends and I care about you! I couldn't anticipate what was going to happen Kev, honestly!'

'Just leave Con, just leave!' he shouted. 'You've done enough damage! She's gone Con!'

'I know,' said Connie quietly, pausing for a while. 'If you want me to leave, that's what I'll do...If you want to talk, you know where I am...'

'Whatever,' said Kevin snappily. 'Just go!'

As she was about to leave, she said, 'I don't blame you for wanting revenge...'

Leaving the room, she went to her office and sat at her desk, looking at the photo that Elaine and Kevin had given her of their younger years. A proud Connie stood in the centre, her hair bigger than Tina Turner's with its outrageous perm, cigarette in hand and a smile on her face. A happy Elaine and Kevin stood either side of her, broad smiles on their faces. What a happier time it was! They didn't care about hospital politics or careers, it was all about organising the next night out and having fun. No one would ever know how much she would kill to have those days back.

She laughed sardonically...'kill'...oh the irony...

The phone rang, and Connie sighed a little before picking it up, 'Connie Beauchamp...'

'Connie!' exclaimed her dad. 'What did you to Elaine? I've had Kev on the phone, he's devastated!'

'There was nothing we could do Dad!' replied Connie. 'I know that Kev blames me; he's made it obvious that he blames me. I don't blame him for blaming me, but his revenge is getting taxing and reflecting the angry rants of a teenage boy!'

'Like what?' asked Billy Chase.

'Stealing Elaine's notes, smashing up my car, he sat outside my house all of last night, and that was before Elaine died!' she exclaimed. 'He's only got to say a word to ruin my reputation, my career and he knows it!'

'Is that all you care about Constance?' he said. 'Never mind that you lost your friend? Oh I forgot, you don't have friends, you're a social alien!'

'Go to hell Dad!' she said, slamming the phone down and rolling her eyes. 'Men!'

Standing up, she moved a few papers around, filing them away when she felt the presence of someone in the doorway, sending shivers up her spine.

'Kev, I've already told you, I'm sorry,' she said. 'Come to yell at me a little more?'

'I'm not Kev,' he stated plainly. 'I'm Nigel...Nigel Trafalgar...You treated my wife, Kay.'

'I know,' replied Connie. 'She passed away...'

'And don't I know it!' he exclaimed, moving threateningly towards her. 'How many deaths have you caused Mrs Beauchamp with your shoddy surgery? You promised that you could save her!'

'I know what you mean mate,' said Kevin from behind, forcing Nigel to turn around. 'You feel like she's ruined your life, taken away everything you've ever loved, cared about. She took away your world. I've been there mate, I'm there right now. And what makes things worse is that we used to be friends. She used my wife like a guinea pig, now she's dead!'

'We can get our revenge together,' said Nigel. 'We can make her pay...'

'We can, but not with violence,' replied Kevin. 'That'll make us worse than her. I thought about it, but my late wife wouldn't have wanted that...Con's a mum now, she's got a kid, poor thing having to suffer having a mum like her though. She's not worth the hassle mate, she'll get her comeuppance one day, just you wait! But not here, not now, and not with your fists...Just go home, and be with your family.'

'I will,' Nigel declared. 'I'm going to tell my kids what she did, what that bitch did!'

'And if I had kids, I'd tell them the same,' replied Kevin.

Nigel left the room looking a lot happier than when he got in. After he had left, Kevin and Connie stood in complete silence.

'Thank you,' said Connie quietly.

'No matter how much I hate you, and want to hurt you, Elaine wouldn't have wanted that,' said Kevin equally as quietly. 'She loved you like a sister and you did this to her. Hope you don't screw up your kid with your idea of love and care. I gotta tell someone...'

He turned his back on her and left with a slow deliberateness in his movements, out onto the main ward. After a few seconds, Connie realised what he was about to do.

'Kev!' she exclaimed. 'Wait!'

She sprinted after him to catch up and hastily followed him to the ward, where he began to whistle, calling for everyone's attention.

'Hello everyone,' he said loudly. 'My name is Kevin Dalton. My wife died about 15 minutes ago, because of this horrid woman standing next to me, none other than Mrs Connie Beauchamp. I first met Connie in a run down council estate in Peckham, where myself, my wife and she grew up. Our snooty upper middle class Connie here doesn't want people to know that she came from Peckham, she's trying to distinguish herself as better. Believe me, she ain't. She's about as posh as a fish and chip shop, believe you me. She smoked like a chimney and drank like a fish, always looking for a good time even if it did break people's hearts. But despite that, she knew where she came from, and she was just Con, the smart and pretty Peckham girl. And look what she is now. A woman that will step over the dead body of her friend for a research project, lying to them and sacrificing their life for medical fame. Now, patients, tell me honestly, do you want this woman operating on you?'

Some patients nodded, knowing of Connie's exceptional reputation, and others shook their heads, based on what they'd heard.

'The ones who said no are the smart ones,' said Kevin quietly as he left.

'Shall I call security?' asked Greg Douglas.

'No, no, just leave him,' she replied. 'He's just angry.'

It went quiet as everyone tried to digest what they had heard.

'Cancel my list for today,' she stated.

Sensing that she was about to release a flood of tears to rival the ocean, Connie excused herself and slipped away into her office, throwing herself onto the sofa and crying desperately, hugging a cushion for some type of twisted security.

She heard a gentle knock on the door and sharply replied, 'Go away!'

'Connie, it's Greg,' he said with his gentle Irish accent. As she ignored him, he said, 'I'm not going away you know. I'm not here to judge, I'm just here to see if you're okay. I care about you, you know.'

Sniffing, Connie said, 'Come in, lock the door behind you.'

'Why?' he asked, slightly confused about the secrecy.

'Only a few people have ever seen me like this,' she said quietly. 'I don't want everyone to see.'

'Okay,' he replied, slipping through the door and locking it behind him. Seeing her in that vulnerable, upset state, he moved towards her and sat beside her on the sofa.

'Everything's gone so wrong Greg,' she said sobbingly.

'Hey, hey, hey,' he replied, pulling her into a hug. 'Don't cry, tá tú ró-álainn uaim go caoin.'

Laughing slightly, she said, 'You always used to use Gaelic when you didn't want me to know what you were saying, or to insult me under your breath...What did you say?'

'Nothing bad,' he said. 'I said, 'you are too beautiful to cry sweetheart''.

'I love hearing you speak Gaelic,' she said quietly. 'It's tarraingteach.'

'You've been learning!' he said teasingly.

'I did a bit of research,' she said. 'Right after you first spoke Gaelic to me...When you said más rud é nach raibh tú chomh tarraingteach...'

'Which is?' he asked curiously.

'If you weren't so attractive...' she said. 'I didn't catch what came next...'

'Couldn't think of the words,' he replied. 'And you interrupted me...So you think my Gaelic speaking is attractive?'

'Your accent in general,' she replied with a smile.

A short, comfortable silence came between them as Greg worked up the courage to broach the subject with Connie.

'Do you want to tell me why you're so upset?' he asked, feeling her recoil.

'We lose patients, it happens,' she replied back quickly, her cold hearted exterior surfacing as a defence mechanism.

'Don't give me that Connie!' he replied stubbornly. 'Something's really got to you, and you wouldn't have let me in if you hadn't of wanted to tell me!'

Shifting uncomfortably away from him, Connie said, 'She was my friend, an old friend from the past. Elaine Dalton...'

'And that was her husband who said all those malicious things?' he asked.

She nodded her head. 'Most of it was true...I'm embarrassed by my past, I'm embarrassed about where I'm from, I'm embarrassed by them! I have a whole new life now, and they just didn't fit with that...It sounds so selfish of me though!'

'I know where you're coming from,' said Greg. 'I've been there myself...I was from the roughest part of Ireland, and when I became a doctor, I went to live in the city. My friends and family didn't know how to behave properly in front of my surgeon friends, so I tried to distance myself from them...And it worked, for a while. But my family hated me, and my colleagues resented me for alienating my family. And so I moved to London...'

'I don't know what to do with myself...' she admitted. 'It's my fault that Elaine's fault. She might have still been alive if I hadn't of pushed her into the procedure.'

'Connie,' he said quietly. 'You know they would've prioritised someone else over her for a heart transplant, she's a smoker and was generally unfit and weak physically. She would've died waiting...'

'I know!' she exclaimed. 'But that wouldn't have been my fault, would it? But this, it's my fault! And my dad's been lecturing me down the phone for treating Elaine like a guinea pig and being a general social alien. Ah God Greg, what do I do?'

'You carry on being you,' he advised. 'Because you care about your patients, you empathise with them, you want to heal them, you enjoy being on the frontline and being the boss, that's why you couldn't deal with the Trafalgar...'

'What if carrying on being me is someone that I don't want to be?' asked Connie. 'I thought I had a purpose Greg, I really did. But I really need to re-evaluate my life. I need to think about what kind of person I want to be, but it's definitely not the hard as stone, cold as ice surgeon. That's not who I am. I hardly ever show anyone the real me, and it's about time that I do.'

'You showed me,' replied Greg quietly. 'That night...'

'When Elliot left,' she replied.

'You had a vulnerability to you that I'd never seen in you before,' he answered. 'You were different to the work Connie. And I understood that...'

As he spoke, he squeezed her hand gently, and she wiped her eyes.

'Do you have your car here?' he asked.

'Nope,' she said. 'It's being repaired. Kevin kind of smashed in the windows.'

'Nice guy,' he replied. 'Did you get a taxi here?'

She nodded. 'And I'm getting one home.'

'No you're not,' he replied. 'I'll drop you home, we can catch up properly, and I can see an ollphéist beag again.'

'an ollphéist beag?' asked Connie. 'You mean Grace, the 'little monster' as you phrased it?'

'You really did learn Gaelic didn't you?' he replied. 'I'll have to learn another language to keep up.'

'And I'll learn that,' she replied defiantly. 'You underestimate me...I do speak other languages too...'

'Like what?' he asked.

'My mother was half Spanish and half French, so I know those. My Gaelic is improving, and my Latin is pretty good too, I studied that for A-Level,' she said.

'Wow, I'm impressed,' he replied. 'So will you let me take you home and say hi to Gracie?'

'You can,' she replied, standing up and straightening out her clothes, quickly checking out her make up in the mirror and picking up her bag. 'Let's go.'

As they walked down the corridor, Connie felt everyone's eyes on her, wondering, judging, as usual.

'Greg, everyone's looking at me,' she said quietly.

His voice becoming louder, Greg said, 'You wanna look at something eh? Okay!'

Putting his arm around Connie, he captured her lips in a passionate kiss, pulling her as close as he could. As they broke apart, everyone wolf whistled, and Greg pulled Connie away by her hand, the both of them giggling as they got into the lift.

'I cannot believe that you did that!' she said.

'Well, at least they're not thinking about what Mr Dalton said, and it looked like it cheered you up!'

'It did indeed,' she replied. 'Let's go then...and I'll consider my punishment for you for breaking my protective bubble of personal space.'

'I'm sure that I'll enjoy it,' he replied cheekily.

Getting into the car, he turned on the radio and began to drive away:

_**Have you ever been lost in a different world  
Where everything you once knew  
Is gone  
And you find yourself powerless  
With everything that exists  
You're numb**_

Will I ever break free

I searched my world but I can't find you  
You're standing there but I can't touch you  
Try to talk but the words are just not there  
I can feel a sense of danger  
You stare at me like I'm a stranger  
Paralyzed and you don't seem to care  
The demons in my dreams

If you become a nobody  
Blind, to your family  
Who would you be?  
And life has gone into reverse  
Re-living every hurt  
Along the way

Everything that you fear is calling you and drawing near

I searched my world but I can't find you  
You're standing there but I can't touch you  
Try to talk but the words are just not there  
I can feel a sense of danger  
You stare at me like I'm a stranger  
Paralyzed and you don't seem to care  
The demons in my dreams

Wake me up and let's go, yeah  
I'm about to explode  
Yeah

I searched my world but I can't find you  
You're standing there but I can't touch you  
Try to talk but the words are just not there  
I can feel a sense of danger  
You stare at me like I'm a stranger  
Paralyzed and you don't seem to care  
The demons in my dreams

'I'll turn it off,' said Greg, noticing that as the song progressed, Connie was becoming more and more introverted.

The rest of the ride back to Connie's was in deadly silence, Greg getting out of the car first once they were there and helping Connie out and into the house.

'Do you want me to put the kettle on?' asked Greg.

'No,' she said. 'Just kiss me...'

'Connie, you're upset,' he replied. 'I don't want to take advantage...'

'Just shut up and kiss me,' she ordered, and he begrudgingly did so, changing his mind as she returned it with maximum passion, backing him into the wall.

'I think the bedroom is a good next step,' he replied breathily against her throat. 'Show me the way?'

Taking his hand, she said, 'Sure...'


End file.
